When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. . But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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